


sweet on the tip of my tongue

by labocat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Corsetry, M/M, Praise Kink, talking through fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 09:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labocat/pseuds/labocat
Summary: As his head rises, so does his gaze, and he feels it like a physical thing as he locks eyes with Tony. The heat he can see in Tony’s gaze as he breaks from Peter’s stare to rake his eyes over Peter’s body slams into his gut.





	sweet on the tip of my tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [is_this_thing_anon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/is_this_thing_anon/gifts).

“Just hold that there, just a little longer.”

Peter hadn’t thought he’d had bad posture before all of this, certainly not after the bite and being made aware of what felt like all of his nerves and muscles whenever they moved. But there’s something about being held in place, of holding one position for so long that make his muscles shake and ache. He’s so close to just slouching, as much as he can, just for a second.

“You’re doing so good, Pete, so good.”

At that he straightens, stiffens his muscles into place, then tries not to stiffen too much _there_ at Tony’s words. He knows his cheeks are hot, knows that the boxer briefs he’s stripped to hide absolutely nothing, but maybe if he doesn’t mention it, Tony won’t either. 

“Hmm, so that does it for you.” Well that was too much to hope. Peter can feel his stomach clench, his fists as well, as he tries valiantly to hold the pose for that much longer though every part of him wants to curl up, to cover himself and dart from the lab to try to retain some semblance of dignity. Instead, he lifts his chin and continues holding still for the scanner.

As his head rises, so does his gaze, and he feels it like a physical thing as he locks eyes with Tony. The heat he can see in Tony’s gaze as he breaks from Peter’s stare to rake his eyes over Peter’s body slams into his gut. Peter rocks back slightly on the balls of his feet to try and shake it, to at least let it settle throughout his body. The scanner is still going, a low hum as it passes over every inch of his body, with Tony’s eyes in hot pursuit.

Peter can feel his breath coming faster, especially as the corner of Tony’s mouth quirks up as he hardens even further under the scrutiny. There’s more than just the usual background level arousal he feels any time he’s in the same room with Tony these days, especially now that he knows exactly what Tony’s hands feel like on his bare skin, both with and without the gauntlet.

The memory of it jolts through him and he shudders, a small moan escaping as his hips chase the phantom sensation of Tony’s gauntleted hand wrapped around his cock, the feeling of the cool metal on his heated skin driving him over the edge. 

“What’re you thinking about, Pete?” Tony’s voice is soft and Peter can almost imagine he feels it like a tangible thing across his skin if he just closes his eyes. He’s shaking even more now, knows that he’s ruining any measurement the scanner was taking with each shift. “Don’t try to pass it off as nothing — you’re not a great liar, and that flush on your chest is doing all the talking for you. Never thought I’d find a blush so attractive, but you continue to surprise me in all sorts of ways. It’s really quite pretty.” Peter’s eyes are closed, but he can imagine the look on Tony’s face, the way he looks at Peter like he’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen even though they’re in a lab full of engineering miracles.

Tony _hmms_ at Peter’s reaction, and Peter can hear him shift to sit at the desk, can hear the telltale sound of fabric rustling and shudders again at the thought that _he_ has done this, even without touching Tony, without even words or eye contact.

“It spreads further the more aroused you are, did you know that?” Peter didn’t — his entire body feels aflame any time Tony touches him, how could he be expected to keep track of where he’s announcing that? “Just like that...it’s as if I’m actually touching you, or almost as good as, at any rate, the fingers of it reaching down your chest. You really are doing remarkably well, holding still like that — I don’t know if I’ve ever been that still in my life, but you? Like you were born for it.” Peter’s starting to float, the burn in his muscles receding as he listens to Tony’s words, lets the praise sink into his skin and hold him up.

“You ever thought about becoming a dancer? Posture like that, your flexibility - Jesus, your flexibility. You’d steal every stage you stepped on. Though maybe burlesque, in heels and a corset, in a light color to highlight that blush on your chest even more as you move.”

Peter imagines it, wearing a corset for Tony. He can already feel Tony’s eyes raking over him, but his mind helpfully supplies what it would feel like for the satin of the corset to be against his skin, holding him even more firmly than he holds himself still now. He imagines a red ribbon against cream satin, imagines Tony lacing him up, cinching his posture in place. As he takes his next breath, he stands taller, his shoulders and chest shifting back as if he were actually corseted. He imagines Tony picking one that the edges could be pulled flush, making the ribbon long enough to brush against his ass when he moves, even tied. He’s sensitive enough that even the imagination-supplied whisper of the silky length and the press of the lining against him makes him shudder, his cock leaking against his briefs.

“What _are_ you thinking about, Pete? You never answered me last time.” Tony’s tone is expectant even through its softness, sharp enough that Peter opens his eyes slowly, finally blinking at Tony.

“Wearing a corset for you,” he breathes. The scanner has stopped at this point, so he feels little shame in stretching his arms above his head. He knows this shows off his leanness to his advantage and given Tony’s current interest in the lines of his body, he doesn’t think Tony will mind him leaving position entirely. To match, he rises onto his feet, then lowers his body, shifting into first position in both arms and feet as he closes his eyes again. “I don’t dance anymore, but I would for you.” He moves through the positions fluidly but pointedly, listening more for the hitch of Tony’s breath than paying attention to the preciseness of his form. As his arms reach up for fifth, he feels the warmth of another body near him and as he opens his eyes and lowers his arms back into first, he traps Tony in the circle of his arms.

After only having his imagination, the actual press of skin and Tony’s lips on his is too much and Peter comes, untouched and messy, panting into Tony’s mouth as Tony pulls him close and steadies him through it. 

Peter is still shaking from the sensation of it all when he comes back, Tony’s hand running up and down his bare back, holding him together. When Tony moves his hand to Peter’s cock, it’s too much, and he whimpers even as his hips, traitorous as they are, jerk into Tony’s grip. All he knows is that Tony hasn’t come yet and he focuses on that rather than the way all of his sensations are overwhelming him, bombarding him all at once with the information that Tony is here with him, all around him. He tries to respond, to make it good for Tony, but all he can do is writhe as Tony strokes him. In what feels like an instant, he’s coming again, feeling Tony jerk against him and only riding through the sensation of so much, _too much_ with the knowledge that he’s made Tony come as well, that he’s done well. It’s backed up by Tony whispering in his ear, murmurs of _so perfect_ and _the best_ and _you don’t know how good you are_ and Peter drifts, content.


End file.
